


Three Years Later

by Imionn (The_River_Blaire)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Possible Death of Major Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_River_Blaire/pseuds/Imionn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is three years after the fall and John has moved on, he is getting married and is happy, so what brought Sherlock to tears?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this, I believe this is a head-cannon, for a contest.  
> I hope you like it.

It had been three years since Sherlock jumped, three years since John’s life had been torn apart, three years since his limp returned, and it had been three years that had left a black hole in John. At first he wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t work, wouldn’t face the world, he did nothing but visit Sherlock’s grave every morning, and sit in the silence imagining the sound of Sherlock’s violin echoing through the flat, his limp had returned, worse than ever. But, slowly he got better. He eventually got a job, eventually began eating again, eventually his limp went away, eventually lived again...

Sherlock would watch as John progressed, he was always just a few steps behind John. He would watch his heart in his throat on John’s bad days, and would watch his good days. He was there when he had proposed to Mary, and he was happy, John had moved on.

John was out, he was visiting Cardiff, something for work. He had rented a car, and was to stay for three days before he was due to come home. But those plans changed...

John drove down the road, he was headed to his hotel. The sun was shining and he could just barely hear the birds through the closed windows of the car. He also heard the squeal of tires beside him. He turned his head to see a car spin out. He watched as the world seemed to move in slow motion as the car collided with his. The world morphed, from the normal everyday colours, to red, and morphed from red to black. He was engulfed in pain as the car crumpled around him. The sound of sirens could be heard and the flashing of lights, help had arrived.

Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat as he watched his best friend loaded into the ambulance. He raced down the road, trying to hail a taxi. His mind raced, his feet pounded against the ground, he had to get there, he had to reach the hospital before.... No, he couldn’t think like that, John would be fine, he had to be fine. A cab did stop for him, it had barely stopped before he was in, screaming directions at the cabbie.

Minutes later they had arrived at the hospital, Sherlock threw money at the cabbie, not knowing how much it was, and not caring either, he just had to reach John. He raced in to the hospital and ran through the corridors, knowing John would have been rushed to critical. He burst through the doors to where John had to be. He was correct, he saw John lying, broken on the hospital bed, his face distorted by blood. There was a dull slow beep coming from the machine beside John. It was slow, too slow, painfully slow. Sherlock tried to race to the bed, but the doctors wouldn’t let him. They restrained Sherlock as he fought to get to John. The doctors were telling him something, but he didn’t process it, he couldn’t, he could only see his friend, dying in front of him. He sobbed and screamed, trying to free himself from the doctors. He fell, he fell to the ground, wracked by sobs. His John, his blogger, was dying, because of one stupid teenager who couldn’t control the car. One stupid teenager that was alive.


End file.
